Suffer well, Sister
by Luxtes
Summary: Sometimes things don't go as planned. A rugged veteran finds herself in the middle of the Darkspear Rebellion, as part of a contingent that should not have been there. It results in unexpected happenings that she could not have foreseen, will she survive and attain her goals, or will she perish in the process? Rated M for Blood and Thunder!
1. Chapter 1

_Suffer well, Sister._

It was just another cold, shrouded night. The sounds of soldiers in battle rest surround me as I fletch a new batch of pointy, flying steel death, the vital instruments for my continued survival in this battlefield, day after day, battle after battle and always the same stale-mate.

We were fighting over old Horde gainings, the well-known Alterac Valley, a massive collection of lands and towers spanning kilometers, first seized by our esteemed Warchief Thrall. I was young then, very young, and my first battles against the pitiful might of the Alliance were had here. Nowadays, it just blends seamlessly with everything else, as a blur of monotony only broken by the each day more seldom rush of a true fight.

 _"_ _Thankfully, my rotation is soon, and I would have another few months to rest in Silvermoon, with what little is left of my family."_ The thought was pleasant, and it gave a semblance of relaxation, that although it did not take the edge off, it relaxed my muscles enough to not be taut as a bowstring, ready to snap back into position at the shortest notice.

And of course, that was my last pleasant thought until it all began anew, the spatter of gunfire and the bellows of battle-rage were more effective than any alarms raised by our soldiers.

Calmly, I retrieved my weapons and walked out of a side gate, my expression the reluctant acquiesce of a veteran who's done this walk one too many times. A flash on my vision on the left side, practiced movements ingrained into muscle memory showing themselves with all the speed and certainty of a well-oiled machine, notch and pull an arrow shaft into the proper position to fire, my body turning along my eyesight to face the incoming target, and, as soon as the target is within the sights of my scope, I release the tension holding the shaft back and it flies with the grace of a bird, straight into the surprised Rogue's eye, who's last sight was that of a platinum haired elf, with green eyes glowing with the menace of a deadly warrior.

A whistle, emanating from my lips, sharp and resounding, is the call for one of my faithful companions, those as deadly as I am, and soon enough my snowy, large owl is flying circles above me in a tight controlled spiral, hovering around me as she waits for a target.

As I take to the field, she doesn't have to wait long, and upon observing the battle I ascertained that this was an ill-fated attempt of a covert take-over, with only a score or so of alliance soldiers engaged in fighting our forces, some already wounded, others performing impressive feats of martial capacity as, in one particular case, they faced off against 3 grunts in a fierce battle of both strength and wit. Of course, this could not be allowed to continue.

Resigned to this, instinct takes over again as I began the firing of arrow after arrow into the alliance line, taking great care to avoid friendly targets, but peppering their not-quite-cohesive lines with projectiles. Then I hear a gunshot and sure enough, it was aimed at me, crashing soundly against my right shoulder pad, the noisy impact unbalancing me and confusing my eardrums for a couple of precious seconds. My owl, having determined the culprit of the attack on her mistress immediately dives into combat, sharp, deadly talons with even sharper metal claws attached to them bared to face the enemy in combat.

Soon enough, I recover, and the enemy marksman is far too busy avoiding the strikes of my beast to put any sort of defense effectively against me. Soon he is put down into the snow, his squat form, a dwarf, bleeding deeply from the arrow lodged into his throat. And once more, the dance begins anew as I dive into the fray, close combat not hindering me at all as my dagger lashes out and my arrows find purchase on bodies, weaving around Alliance and Horde grunts alike in the haze of combat and warfare.

* * *

As sudden as it started, it was over, dead bodies littering the ground all around us. The red clad corpses of our grunts lay alongside the blue clad forms of the soldiers sent to strike at us, although amusing us is a more valid perceived objective as seen by the grins on the surviving orc grunts. Certainly, those took the most joy in this honorable combat.

 _"_ _Just one more day in paradise… Now time to go back to brooding."_

Steady feet took me back to the tower, and after a quick check up to confirm equipment and unnoticed wounds, I grab the reins of my war strider and ride for the nearby keep under Horde control. Deciding a bit of shut-eye is in order, I guide myself inside the barracks upon arriving and flop down into a bed, slipping into the not-quite-sleep that only those in a war know how to rest in.

Come morning, a messenger came in looking for me. It would seem the commander wanted to see me. _"_ _Rotation time it seems."_ I thought. The intrusion was welcome, for the expected news, and within a minute I was up and running again, ready to face whatever came at me and mine.

After a few minutes of uneventual walking through the innards of the keep, I came upon the field commander of our force, an old, gruff warlord Orc who had seen as many battles as me and more. His tone was deep and his words to the point; "You're going back home, elf. You have made the Horde proud again with your service, you have earned your rest. Dismissed," And with that, my most recent tour in the Valley was finished, thankfully not as eventful as my last.

The portal out erupted me in the innards of the great Horde city of Orgrimmar, it's beloved stench, result of the sweat and grime of thousands of orcs living in the same place, the unwashed peons unashamed and unaffected by their own smells gathering into a very orcy musk that pervaded everything in it, glorious to the orcs perhaps but extremely distasteful for my admittedly sensitive nose, albeit with the years it is desensitized. The thought was sobering, with the long life spans of my kind the years seem to go by without a second thought, each one taking us closer to our natural grave even with all the efforts to stop, or to accelerate, the fate that every living creature must face eventually.

 _"_ _Has it really been that long already?"_ I was in the prime of my life, yet this prime seemed eternal, I was already one hundred and ninety three years old, barely an adult by elven standards, but ancient to the orcs surrounding me, who's life expectancy even to those who did not actively fight, rounded around the hundred something, not many going past a hundred twenty. For the eyes of my kind, I was barely a youngster, yet I had the blood of thousands in my hands… War, truly is hell.

The memory of my parents shakes me out of my reveries, as it's time to begin the long trek back to my homeland and Silvermoon, I could not get to the zeppelins fast enough.

* * *

I could barely set eyes in my home without feeling the overcoming grief, it was not long ago that the first deployments to Pandaria happened, with the unfateful demise of the Hellscream's Fist on it's first trip, and the death of every crewmen and soldier still above it. Barely two moons indeed since her death. If only she had come down in the ropes with me… The familiar smells of my workshop bring me out of my misery, smells of lubricant and metal pieces rusting in the back and foreground of my mind. There was a beauty to machinery, and tinkering was one of my favourite things to do. I had even made a gyrocopter, once. A flying machine worthy of goblins, and sold it for a fair amount of gold, enough to buy this too-large-for-one place smack in the middle of Silvermoon.

 _"_ _Stop it, thinking too much will only drive you mad."_

I decided to shelter myself from my thoughts amongst a fair amount of alcohol and machine oil, just another day in the shop…

The next day, while under the influence of an ungodly hangover, a messenger came with a summons, as it seems my vacations would be cut short, I find myself strangely not minding this as much as I believe I should, with the stress of battle still having not left my mind but my muscles aching to stay active. It would seem I was to be attached to a new squadron for an assault deep into Kal'dorei territory… Gearing up within five minutes, I was en route to the Sunspire where we would be briefed, only twenty of us it would seem, and I would be in a position of squad leader, as noted in my orders.

Soon after I was in the war-room, and this is where things went completely different to expected.

"You all have been summoned here," Our regent lord commenced, his projected form looking at the amassed troops, all sort of specialists among us, from the peaceful and wise monks, to the pious paladins to the bloodthirsty berserking warriors, "Because something must be done, and you are the most trust worthy to assign this to.

"Our coalition, has a problem. A big complication, that is endangering all of its members, may you all keep in mind now that what you will hear must not leave this room, and that I have ensured that it will not, for if you refuse… it cannot be allowed to."

His sobering gaze swept over us, searching for something unseen amongst the gathered, I faced my lord's gaze head-on without fear, for I was a proud Blood Elf, and my lord's words did not make me fear. I would not refuse this honor, whatever it would be. After a minute or two, the Lord seemed satisfied with his observations, and continued.

"Sin'dorei," He began, the switch from orcish to Thalassian easily noticeable for all of us present, indicated that this was not for elvin ears and every precaution was taken, Magisters immediately began casting a barrier around us that, I would surmise, allowed no sound to escape, "Garrosh Hellscream is a threat to our continued existence. He is a threat to our customs, a threat to our people, and he clearly disregards our lives as worth only how many we can throw at his enemies, and does not care if they die in the process. This cannot stand. This, will not stand, sin'dorei."

These words… My lord was speaking treason against the Horde. I was torn for a moment, my loyalties weighing themselves, Would I rebuke my lord for this spoken treason, inside his keep, and inevitably die afterwards? Sure, I could take perhaps a dozen guards, but I would be bogged down and executed as a traitor to our kind soon enough, but then my mind swung back to the failure that was the first landing to Pandaria under Warchief Garrosh's orders, and it's personal cost to me. My loyalty to him nonexistent after this reminder, I tuned back to my surroundings just as the Regent began to speak again.

"We are not alone in this sentiment, the dark spears' leader, Vol'Jin, and Thrall himself, will be accompanying you, and will march with you into battle. We will siege Orgrimmar itself, my Elite, and we will bring down the one who has betrayed the very ideal of the Horde. This time next moon, we will have a new Warchief."

Since the briefing, everything was a blur, the preparations undertaken in short order while troop movements were scrambled, in the logistics everything looked perfectly legitimate, but the soldiers never knew their true destination until the very last moment, when no warning could be given, and no stops be pulled. I was made aware that the alliance would join us in this strike, a temporary truce given in order to capture Garrosh and make him pay for all the grievances caused to both sides, and while we stormed from the ground, they would strike from the sea.

The battle outside was short, the contingency of patrols and guards in the perimeter quickly taken out by our rogues and vol'jin's Headhunters, assuring that our advance was undetected while the battle at the port raged.

Soon enough, the massive gates loomed before us, defenders stacked tight on the top, along with one of the greatest Generals of the Horde, the respected Nazgrim.

"I am warning you now, to stop this madness," he bellowed from the battlements up above, as Nazgrim looked down upon the gathered leaders and soldiers. "The Horde must be united to wipe out our enemies; this in-fighting and division will do nothing but weaken us all! You will be our downfall if this continues, Vol'Jin!"

"Nah mon, our downfall be Garrosh and his madness," he riposted, and barked back, "For da good of da horde, we gonna put him down!"

"Don't be foolish Vol'Jin! You have no siege weapons left, you cannot win this battle!"

"Ain't no other way, mon. We gotta stop Garrosh here an' now, else be we runnin' the rest of our lives."

It was sobering, but true, there was no turning back anymore, we had all been seen and the battle had already begun, the alliance troops had already taken the docks and advancing on our position, ready to join the battle for the gates.

"Dey must have taken da docks! Haha!" The old troll exclaimed upon sight of the approaching men and women, "Welcome to da' fields of slaughter."

"Perhaps there is hope after all…" Said Baine Bloodhoof as he readied himself to observe the upcoming battle.

And all hell broke loose, as the expected opponent was unleashed against our hastily assembled defense line, its looming form squarely in front of us and drawing closer with each breath I take. Prepared for this my body lurches into the usual motions of drawing and firing my arrows, taking the short time between shots to charge up power on the arrow tip unleashing arcane charged shots, one after another, at the sensors in the perceived face of the mechanical scorpion facing us.

The Iron Juggernaut, as it's called, is a massive example of Goblin engineering at its finest, mechanical cogs working seamlessly to move the heavy appendages with dexterity unexpected of a machine, the buzz-saw dangerously swift, and the drill lighting fast, stab and slash onto our front line, shields beared against them while our rear strikes with all the possible might they can amass.

Then the cannons began firing, the laser flared and swept, and for the second time in less than five minutes, controlled chaos broke loose. Hasty prayers could be heard uttered like mantras, invoking the power of the light, and green beams of energy crossed our chests as the spirits aided in our fight, replenishing our strengths and keeping us prepared for whatever comes, the shaman amongst us doing his utmost to keep everyone alive.

A flash, "Scatter!" leaves my throat, bellowed with all the air I could muster from my lungs as I lunged sideways, avoiding the buzz-saw that now flew straight towards the gathered group, fast as gunshot, tearing through the air and anything that would dare stay in its path. Glancing hits and painful strikes are had amongst the attacking party, the chatter of prayers renewed once more as the priests among us attempt to aid the wounded with due haste, lest they fall to not rise again. A mechanical screech is heard, and we don't have long to regain our balance before the earth begins shaking beneath our feet, the dangerous drill attached to the behemoth's other claw smashing against the ground with the force of an earthquake, catching those still unbalanced from the hasty jump aside unawares, and dropping me unceremoniously onto my back.

Panic ensues as my every instinct screams to do anything, to just _move_ before something happens that I cannot see and avoid, and I obey, surging to my feet and lurching back, assessing the situation as I dashed backwards through the air, and confirming that my fears were unfounded; the beast is still too occupied trying to crush the warriors in front of it, belching scorching hot flames and releasing mechanical screeches as metal grinds against metal in its movements, creating a beautiful crescendo as it blends in with the usual sounds of battle.

After this, it all seems to just blur by once again, instincts taking over and battle haze clouding my mind once more, the absolute focus overcoming me as I have only one objective, to bring down this machine once and for all.

A paladin, one Lysander or perhaps Alyxander I'd think is his name, suddenly roars as he smashes his hammer hard into the right claw, the one formerly holding the buzz-saw, and tears it apart in the shape for debris and pieces stabbing into the ground below, and a bigger chunk rising up the dirt in pieces and throwing rocks haywire with its impact. However, before he can break back and clear the danger, the drill makes it appearance spearing him from the back and tearing through his plate armor as if it were made of paper, a gruesome death if there ever was one.

This is sobering for our forces, as we contemplate the first casualty taken in this battle, a loathsome loss to be sure as even if I didn't personally know the man, he was one of the best of our kin, he had to be, having been selected to be here. A deep fury rises within me and with a roar I began firing anew, with all the vigor and reckless abandon of a dedicated soldier who wishes not to die today, and without even knowing what I have screamed until the last word left my mouth, I find myself realizing that I am being echoed.

 **"** **FOR THE HORDE!"** ; was the general bellow resounding through the battlefield, invigorating even more the spirits of everyone gathered, and with our hearts rekindled one by one the appendages of the mechanic beast fall, until only the legs are left in precarious conditions, and I knew, that it wouldn't take much longer to fall. I aimed, and took my time, ignoring the instinct to keep moving and after a breath I let go, aiming for the exact joint weakened enough that with a blast, would come apart and render the machine static, with only its tail still in working order to prove any danger.

Time slowed down as the arrow flew, the energy surrounding it glowing a brilliant, metallic blue, guaranteeing enough damage to fulfill its purpose, and soon that is done, the beast falling prey to gravity as it dropped onto one side, the remaining legs on it unable to sustain the weigh, and immobile as it was, it was not long after that it belched it's last flame as it powered out.

* * *

"Da beast be slain!" came the victory bellow from Vol'Jin, as he approached once more the frontline where the rest of us stood, not far from the defeated war machine that still spewed smoke from its vents.

"You may have defeated my war machine, but the gate still stands!" was the response from Nazgrim, still perched atop the battlements of the gates, standing strong against our opposition, "You will not take Orgrimmar today."

"Anu'dora!" We heard, and these words were the trigger for pandemonium itself as the Kal'dorei made their presence known. Only deeply ingrained discipline kept my hands still as the elven warmachine crested the top of the burrow, and began rapid fire against the gate itself, all the while mounted Sentinels rushed their way onto the battlements, chaos taking over the defenders as they hastened to assemble lines.

Before too many thoughts could be had, the gate broke apart and the bellows from Nazgrim to assemble there in defense of the city are heard over the noise of the battle above, a large mob of Kor'kron rushing ahead to stop our progress.

"At them, my sisters," ordered the leader of the kal'dorei, while notching an arrow unto her bow and releasing it to the mass of kor'kron grunts, "For Kalimdor!"

And once again things happened lighting fast, as more mounted Sentinels engaged the grunts and Tyrande directed her attention towards Vol'jin, who stood at the head of our formation, and spoke; "Don't think we're here to save you, Troll. We're here for Kalimdor. Get your forces inside while we distract the enemy!"

All we could do was rush ahead, following the mob mentality as the first step was taken, the flood gate opened and we all ran towards our destination, minds settled on the final objective. _"At last, into the city,"_ were my thoughts, _"Soon, the rabid dog will meet his end."_

* * *

 _AN: Plot bunny swimming on my head, would like to gauge interest before continuing, reviews appreciated._


	2. Chapter 2

Before long, everything turned to chaos. Walking through the gates was surprisingly easy, the resistance amounted to barely anything as we powered through into the city, but things didn't stay that way as the sun shined on our faces once more. Very quickly, blasts of elemental power stroke at us, forcing the group to scatter as if being bombarded from the sky.

Fire and thunder surrounded us, impacting on flesh and dirt alike as the dark shamans barring our way forced the elements into compliance, woe of those who were too slow to avoid them. Then a brave warrior, shouting for all his worth, jumped right in front of them and the mayhem turned into controlled, disciplined concert, as we were allowed to regroup and provide a proper battlefront to the two behemoth-like beings in our path, while reinforcements trickled in behind us to perform their assigned duties. As the meat-shields performed admirably, I kept looking for an opening, one single opportunity to strike hard and decisively against our present enemy, but no such chance presented itself, as no matter how many arrows I put in their direction they were always one step out of my aim while simultaneously keeping the melee fray in control. Amazed as I was, I didn't notice until almost too late the gout of lava flying straight towards me.

"Gah! Curse you!" I bellowed as the pain clouded my mind momentarily, my hands unlatching my now overheated pauldron, letting it fall to the floor as I hissed and tested the motion of my arm, confirming that I was still in fighting shape. With fury brought from the pain, I jumped into motion once more using all of my energy in trying to bring down these beasts that called themselves orcs. Eventually, a killing strike was made and the sword of a warrior was now sticking half-way into the head of one of the shamans, blood gushing out of the wound freely as unintelligible gibberish left his mouth, and war cries were heard loud and strong over the din of continuing battle. Enemy reinforcements ran into the fray from the innards of Orgrimmar, intent on stopping our advance before any more could be made, and the now-enraged shaman was mercilessly striking at anything in sight, with the two berserkers surrounding him barely able to keep him occupied.

In order to avoid getting trapped between opposing forces, I ran into the fray where our grunts were keeping the enemy cannon fodder distracted, bow on my back and daggers blazing on every strike as I made my way to the other side of the chokepoint we had put ourselves into. Suddenly, a surprisingly skilled enemy warrior was onto me, and I had to pull every stop in order to remain alive, the gigantic axe in his hands surely my weight or more, I dreaded parrying and thus weaved my way around his strikes, terrified of the uneven terrain hindering me and making me die without accomplishing anything yet.

Strike after strike, left, right, hack from topside to a left sweep, his pattern slowly came to mind and a counter already forming itself, on the second repetition I jumped into action, his bellow giving me no pause as i bashed the pommel of my left dagger against his temple and stabbed my right one into the gap in his armor on the chest, straight towards the liver.

"Al diel shala, orc," were my parting words as the stunned and bleeding orc, left with a shredded liver, could do nothing more than listen and wait for his end, throat swiftly slit and my path continued, seeking the perceived safety of stacked numbers against ever growing enemies, and then everything a fierce, loud war cry that only the lungs of a grown orc could produce, pierced the din of battle sharply calling the eye towards the Dark Shaman, who was now deeply wounded and clearly in a blood-lust induced haste, berserk strength powering his spells as one by one those impacted began to die. Totems dropped once more, and a dark mist surrounded him weakening those who breathed it in, and those who were hit by glancing shots afterwards were covered by a darkness that seemed to absorb light and not let it out, crawling over their armors slowly towards the uncovered flesh of faces beneath helms. Deciding something had to be done and my eye catching another marksman doing the same, I reached for my bow once more and prepared a perfectly aimed shot, gathering much of my energy in it, intent on piercing the armor and striking the heart, which surely should be weakened enough by now to work.

As the first, fired by the other marksman impacted, another war cry was bellowed and promptly I released my own shot, which pierced straight into the heart of the now fatally wounded but not yet defeated shaman, and in the throes of his battle rage, he gathered all his power and we were reminded why this one was called the Earth Breaker, as Haromm made the ground shake with the force of a titan and scattered the troops remaining in the area, enemy and friendly alike, with bits of the surrounding stone cliffs falling down upon unsuspecting victims too preoccupied with maintaining balance to look up, and then, the ground exploded as a slab of stone shot out beneath my feet, and sent me flying into the air away from the closest pocket of allies I had left.

* * *

Impact was hard, and along the way about half of my quiver had emptied itself as I flailed upside down and tried to hold onto as many as I could, chinked bits of my armor sticking outward and falling off, revealing bruised flesh and cuts along porcelain white skin, blood drips falling slowly from wounds not deep enough to be dangerous, but tender nonetheless, and along with the couple of broken ribs, it all amounted to the pain usually reserved to the loss of a battle.

But the battle was not over yet. Wincing, I stood up, and bellowed the agreed upon keyword for the rebelling forces, "Darkspear, Rally on me!", the cry drawing another hiss from my lips as it intensified the pain of my cracked ribs. Shapes stood up from the rubble and I was only able to afford a quick glance to each to confirm allegiance, wary of an enemy sneaking up on me after having revealed my position. A flash of what I recognized as kor'kron armor and seconds later an arrow was already heading to the unprotected face of the unfortunate orc female, who had stood up a few paces too close for my comfort, stabbing through the temple and ending her life as swiftly as it had flew. A quick headcount of those bearing our mark that swarmed towards me had given me pause, _only ten? Anar'alah, this just gets better and better._

"Status report!" was my command, raking my eyes over the soldiers surrounding me and surverying the field around between each one I looked upon, wary of sudden encounters. Amongst us remained three warriors, the marksman who assisted me in the killing shot who seemed better off than I was, a mage who looked like she had lost all hope with the look in her eyes, a paladin who jumped at any sound, extremely wary of his surroundings and a thin looking man with two daggers, one in his hand and the other in his waist, who could only be a rogue by the looks of him.

This rogue, had another man draped on his shoulder who was profusely bleeding out of his nose, and he had all the signs of a bad concussion, while the only healer among us strode quickly to fuss over him in order to get him back into fighting shape.

"This one has a broken leg," spoke the rogue, referring to the one draped on his shoulder, "And the warrior over there looks about ready to keel over."

A glance in the direction given confirmed the words, as the warrior in question was using his polearm as a crutch to remain standing, exhaustion marring his face, but awareness firmly present in the eyes of this silvery haired orc, _a veteran then, from the days of Thrall… I'm glad of his presence._

After a quick deliberation in my head, I spoke clearly and with all the authority I could muster, "Prepare to move out as soon as possible, we'll find other groups along the way." Then, drawing on my limited experience with command, I continued, "we must not stop now, or else the ones who have died already will have died for naught."

"For the horde," spoke the tired warrior, and then a bright flash of light from the priest in our midst enveloped him, the veteran once more standing on his feet after it faded, readiness all that could be seen on his countenance. In turn, the priest, exhausted by all the energy spent prior and now this recent bout of calling for her light, dropped to a knee while panting as if she had ran ten miles in less than ten minutes.

Deciding quickly, I addressed the other warriors in our group, those who seemed weary but strong enough to keep going, and spoke; "You two, take her to the rearguard, if she goes along with us in this state she will only die. That is unacceptable."

Nods and a quick chorus of "Yes, First Sergeant" met my orders, and swiftly one of them took hold of the frail elf and his undead companion kept guard as they began their trek to the gates once more.

"The rest of you," I addressed, "Move out!"

And thus it began anew, our feet finding the way quickly amongst the rubble fallen from over our heads in the direction we were briefed to, straight towards the cleft of shadow along the beaten paths of the Drag, now void of any citizens and peons, discarded tools laying hither and yonder in sign of a hastily beaten retreat. Surprisingly, no resistance was found in our way, and with my sharp eyes I noticed the presence of a sole orc amidst a group of kor'kron soldiers. _Thrall, then. Must be._

With the thought, my drawing arm raised up bow in hand and an arrow ready to fly in assistance of our prior Warchief, my fellow marksman following suit beside me and the rugged warrior who was with us charged ahead, eager to once more fight beside his erstwhile leader. Within moments the fighting was over, the surprised group of Kor'kron proving unable to defend against the two pronged assault, and my ragtag group rushed ahead to present readiness to the senior officer present, that being Thrall himself, and await orders.

"Advance with caution," Were his words, "we must reach Ragefire Chasm quickly, or our attack won't succeed."

Orders given, he continued down at a run and we followed behind into the cleft of shadow, the sight of marksmen perched in the nooks of the stone cavern atop our heads not surprising me, I notched and arrow and fired, swiftly switching to a new target after the previous one put his head down to avoid death, and I was mimicked by those who could do such things while the rest swiftly barged into the waiting mob of kor'kron soldiers waiting for us at the bottom.

Thrall remained behind, at the entrance, as we wandered inside after the last of the foreguard fell, the first sight I came to was the visage of General Nazgrim awaiting us, grim resignation in his face as he stared us down.

"So, it has come to this." He sentenced, roaming his eye over the gathered warriors who came in front of him, "Together, we have learned and grown over the years, and now we find ourselves face to face on the battlefield." He sighed, and carried on, "Do not think I will go easy on you, nor do I expect any quarter. What we do now, we do for the Horde, both of us."

The old orc who had so far followed our orders walked forwards to the head of our numbers, and spoke, "You and me, Nazgrim, for the Horde of Thrall, I will bring you down." He rushed ahead, and with a bellow of "Lok'tar Ogar!" he faced off against Nazgrim in single combat.

"It is an honor to finally face you in combat, Vrogak!" He shouted, in between parries and blocks, feints and counters with his axe against the now named Vrogak's poleaxe, "Lok'tar Ogar, for Honor, and for the Horde!"

At this point, more Kor'kron soldiers charged ahead, and Thrall finally came into the picture by calmly walking among us and sending a Chain Lightning at those who ventured too far towards us. "Go, clear a path ahead!" was all he said before he continued onwards, more kor'kron coming by the second in waves, as the cries of "Kor'kron, with me!" came from Nazgrim's fanged mouth.

Those of us left went across the field, taking down the soldiers who remained in our path to the chasm, and rushing past Nazgrim whom despite his attempts to stop us, could not really spare his concentration from the current fight long enough to be do so.

Inside the chasm, the heat was stifling and the silence disconcerting, everyone making their best attempt at not making any sort of noise, for we were diving straight into the hornets' nest to make leeway for those coming behind us, in-so-far as we did not get bogged down and slaughtered. Although a real concern, this was quite unlikely as of the five of us remaining, three were trained infiltrators and as such could scout ahead and keep the group silent and unseen, while the rest trailed close behind and kept their presence at the bare minimum.

* * *

So far, everything was going well, as we had made our way to the Kor'kron barracks without being spotted, the decision made was to silently take out as many soldiers as possible before we were inevitably discovered, suicidal as that may be, but it was what was needed to do for the future of the Horde itself, if our life bought hundreds, perhaps even thousands, then it would be completely worth it. May we be remembered as those who dared strike ahead as the anvil, while the main force would be our metaphorical hammer, striking at the back of the distracted enemy and swiftly taking victory from them.

Choice made, the group was split, and positions were ordered. The paladin was to move in last, and call the attention of as many as he could in the center area of the barracks, while those of us who could remain hidden moved and placed explosives wherever helpful to prevent reinforcements from leaving their quarters. The mage would then use her control over frost to rain sharp, deadly icicles on the soldiers who would inevitably surround the paladin while he protected himself by invoking the powers of the light. _A fool-proof, anti-murphy plan, as the simplest always tend to be._

The corridors were not empty, but they were also not crowded. Dimly illuminated by fires placed sporadically the broad passages had plenty of shadows to lurk upon, I was saddened that I could not bring my wolf with me, he surely would have relished the fighting that would happen here soon. I had taken the right-hand corridor for myself, as well as the attached wing for me to explore and disable as much as possible. The ruckus began and with instincts borne from survival and reflexes forged from experience, I pressed myself flat against a darkened stretch of the wall, energy coating my body to blend in as much as possible, so long as I did not move, I would not be spotted, and not too son was I finished with my movement when barely seconds later at least 10 soldiers rushed out of the corridor I was heading to, and swiftly slinked inside after they passed.

This corridor was slightly more illuminated than the last, the shadows sparsely covering the walls from the opposing braziers providing light to the space, I was in search of the second in command, the legionnaire stationed here as overseer for the barracks, in order to cut off the chain at one of the nearest links. Nazgrim was up there, hopefully dead by now, and now it was his turn. At this thought, I tried to bring up his name from my memory, and was not surprised at drawing a blank, for all my service with the Horde forces, I was never in extended contact with Orc officers, my stations were usually commanded by the Sin'dorei or the Forsaken, and my contact with orcs was limited.

Lost in my thoughts, I hadn't payed as close attention to my surroundings as I should, I could almost berate myself for the rookie mistake as I was now in very close proximity with a group of seemingly off duty orcs, some were wearing armor, some were not, but their wickedly sharp weapons were still close to hand and they would be rested enough that my wounded, weary form should avoid any and all contact possible. Deciding to backtrack, I raked my eyes once more around the gathered to make sure I was not seen, and just as I took the first step back I saw it happen, there was one orc staring straight at me and my movement had called me out.

"More intruders!" came the warning, and the leisurely paced orcs changed gears into the wicked war-machines they truly were, large axes and swords coming to bear and the rush of locating the intruder began, I had been seen already, and thus the only option remaining was to fight.

Standing up from my crouch and nocking an arrow in the same movement, I took immediate aim at the one who had spotted me, his uncovered head as easy a target at those who were with their chests bared, but vindictiveness guided me to take the one who endangered me out first, the arrow flew, and another came up to replace it as I switched targets in the nick of a second, no sooner had the first struck as the second had begun its flight, but that was all the time I was given before they managed to close up into melee range.

This quickly devolved into a frenzy fray for me, as I tried my best to remained out of their reach by closing in and attacking, my poisoned dagger flashing and slashing while my bow remained firmly grasped in my left hand, sometimes lashing out to create distance or strike at a vulnerable face, taking out teeth with its solid metal frame.

However, my wounds were catching up to me, out of 12 starting opponents after about twenty seconds two were dead, and three were in the floor either unconscious or on the way to the grave. I dreaded the thought, but I was conscious that I began to slow down, fatigue turning my armor heavier than it felt before, sluggish movements beginning to intertwine themselves with the swift and vigorous ones that preceded them. In a last bet, I lashed out at the closest orc, smashing into his guard with all the subtlety of a bull but with the suddenness of lighting, and slashed at his throat, the small respite of the body placed between me and the rest enough to coil down my legs and spring backwards in a powerful leap. The shower of blood had stained my hair, not concerned any more with staying clean from my kills, and my armor was likewise covered with my face splattered but thankfully remaining out of my eyes, my vision unimpaired so far.

Ragged breaths came out of me as I focused once more, the orcs moving once more towards me with all the speed they could muster, my hand deftly pulled four arrows and as I had done before, notched them all spread enough to fire in the same general direction, but still spread. The idiots had made this easy, charging in a haphazard line side by side that was not quite even, but close enough for this to work. I released, and those four who had charged ahead were struck, shots finding purchase in uncovered necks, chests, and arms, inflicting debilitating if not outright lethal wounds, a particular orc had pulled the arrow lodge in his throat swiftly after impact, and a jet of blood sprouted from the opened gash surprised him and took him off balance, bowling into the floor without any air coming to his lungs. Another two fell similarly, one struck on the eye and another in the heart, while the last shot missed entirely, to my dismay. Reacting as swiftly as I could in the time it took him to swerve over his fallen companions and smash aside a table, a poisoned arrow was in my hand and nocked towards his form, a hiss escaping me as the effort of firing so quickly after the last brought fresh agony from my wounds.

The shot was true, and the impact on his shoulder although it gave him no pause, it spread the venom quickly enough to give him ten more seconds to live. As he got to me, I leaped to the side on the downward hack of his axe but devoted no more attention to him as he was now as sure as dead, devoting my attention to the remaining two threats, one of them circling me and the other seemingly torn between charging and doing the same as his companion.

 _This was not how it was supposed to go!_ , my panicked mind provided me, as the last two of my opponents faced my concentrated scowl, and just as suddenly as I had sprung upon their ally, they both came to an accord and jumped me from two sides at the same time. _I will not die here! I refuse to die here!_ , was all I could think as my dagger once more slid into my right hand, and with a swift flick it was flying towards the face of the orc facing me, impact was swift and as soon as I saw contact I swirled around, and in the split second I took to find him, he was already in front of me, sharp, deadly sword headed straight towards my stomach, and I knew there was no time to dodge this one.

 _If I will die, then you are coming with me, orc!_

As it pierced into and through my stomach, through the space I know my liver occupied, I reached into my quiver one last time as my left hand let my bow drop to the floor with a clang, I bit through the pain and with a snarl and a shout I plunged the arrow, with all my energy left, straight into his eye. The arrow exploded upon contact with his eye socket, shredding through his skull and showering me and his remains in gore, as his body dropped limp and I fell with the sword harshly embedded into mine. Impact brought another wave of agony as the sword was pushed out and moved inside, a sharp gasp escaping me as the end came, too slow for my taste, as even if I could take much more, it was pointless if I could not go on. I knew I could not get up from this, perhaps not even a priest could do anything swiftly enough to save me, and with each time more ragged breaths my vision darkened, and my senses dulled.

A flash of motion caught my eye, and my arms made pitiful movements that would have been lighting swift but now were sluggish and useless, as if underwater, and the sight I came upon surprised me greatly. A dark clad elven form was before me, walking swiftly towards my fallen form, and even if I had the time to say anything, the blood choking my throat could not have allowed me to.

"You will do well as one of us," She said, red eyes shining from underneath her hood, and I knew this one was from Sylvanas's Dark Rangers, "We will see each other again soon. Suffer well, Sister."

She pulled the sword out, the sound of it clanging harshly against the floor muted by my dulled senses, and grabbed me in a hold onto her shoulder, my last sight was that of hers grabbing my bow as everything faded into darkness.

* * *

 _AN: A bit more happening this time, and the first plot device has fallen into place. I reckon at least some of you had expected something like this, but if I took you by surprise then all the better! Also a bit longer than the last, reviews appreciated, specially if you have any mess-up to point out to me._


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